birthday candles
by gossamer lights
Summary: Nobody had ever told Astrid that parents were supposed to kiss each other when they were married. Truth was, she had never seen her parents kiss each other so she had assumed it was normal. Grown ups didn't kiss each other. It wasn't until she saw Ruffnut's dad kiss her mom goodbye that she knew that her parents didn't love each other. Astrid's past catches up with her in London.


_Context: This is essentially Astrid's untold life story, from age eight to twenty three - focusing around her emotional relationships and their effect on her later life. Set in England, after the 1984 Miner's Strike._

* * *

Nobody had ever told Astrid that parents were supposed to kiss each other when they were married. Truth was, she had never seen her parents kiss each other so she always assumed it was normal. Grown ups didn't kiss each other. It wasn't until she saw Ruffnut's dad kiss her mom goodbye that she knew that her parents didn't love each other.

But by then it wasn't surprising to Astrid anymore. She had seen the signs.

When she was younger, Astrid had tried to defend her parents on a daily basis. Had they been fighting? No, it had been playful banter. Had they been sleeping in separate beds? Well, it didn't matter to her. Had they forgotten her birthday? No, they must have just been planning a surprise for next year.

For the longest time, it had worked.

At the age of eight, she had began to feel bad for being born on a peak travel day, as her dad always needed to stay overnight at the office to sort out the transport paperwork. But her mom had still been there, sitting on the couch and watching the news whilst Astrid unwrapped a ballerina doll. Her mom wasn't singing heartily or beaming in anticipation across the table as Astrid carefully peeled off the tape, but she was there and that had been enough for Astrid.

She loved that gift as well, placing it back into the box where it wouldn't get dirty. See, her mom was a ballet teacher and she wanted to be just like her mom when she grew up. But as she blew out the candles of a hastily made cake, she couldn't help but feel guilt when she wished for her dad to be there as well. And even though he wouldn't have made it home on time, she liked to pretend he kissed her goodnight whilst she was asleep, and tucked her blanket back in after it slid off the bed during the night.

The next morning, she had woken up to the cold, and to her dad passed out on the dining table, face planted squarely on the slice she had saved for him.

Nobody had ever told Astrid that birthdays were supposed to be nicer than that. After all, that was all she had ever known. It wasn't until she went to Ruffnut's eleventh birthday party that she knew something was wrong. Ruffnut's mum and dad were both there, showering her with affection, and Ruffnut was smouldering in her little bubble of embarrassment, writhing away from their hugs and kisses. Astrid remembered looking around at the other girls there, waiting for one of them to exclaim at how wrong this was. But she had been met with nothing but the welcoming embrace of Ruffnut's parents as they dragged her over to watch Ruffnut cut the cake.

After she came home, she had furiously refused when her parents offered to throw her a birthday party like Ruffnut's that year. Astrid didn't feel like lying to her friends - lying to herself had been hard enough.

At fifteen, she blew out the candles and ate the cake with both her parents on either side, but all Astrid could taste was a memory she never had. All those years of stupid birthdays burned in the back of her mind, and bore a hole through the burnt piece of cake in front of her. And strangely enough, even though she had long drilled it into her mind that she was fine knowing her parents didn't love her or each other, tears pricked at her eyes.

* * *

Astrid found it funny that even though she had tried so hard to leave her old self back in Berk, all it took was one sentence to bring everything back.

"Happy Birthday Astrid!"

Hiccup Haddock stood at the door, and held out a cake eagerly with twenty-three candles on it.

"I thought that since you only came to London two months ago, you wouldn't have anyone who knew your birthday was today."

Astrid had counted on it.

"C'mon then, blow out the candles."

Astrid did not move.

"Don't you like it?" He faltered. "Astrid, what's wrong? Astr-"

His words faded into an insistent babble as Astrid's old memories came seeping back.

Had they ever said they loved each other? Why didn't they love each other? Was it because of her? Had they ever told Astrid that they loved her? Why didn't they love her? Should she have even left that suddenly? She had been twenty two for less than a fortnight when the British government had shut down Berk's coal mines, leaving hundreds of people without work. It had been her ticket out of the impoverished, ramshackle town - packing her bags immediately without a glance back to her parents. Sure, now that she was leaving, they cared about her.

It took her seven months to hitchhike her way to the big city, living in Manchester for four months before bumping into Fishlegs at the supermarket, praying he wouldn't see her, head down looking intently at the ingredients of her cereal, walking as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Should she have stayed to help her friends after the coal mines got closed? She heard that Ruffnut's dad had died long ago. There hadn't been enough money to feed his family. Were they even alive? The same guilt that robbed her of her past birthdays stole away at her now. She closed her eyes as the floor spun out from under her. But she didn't crash.

Astrid opened her eyes to meet his, green and bright with concern. There was the smell of birthday candles in the air. She choked back a sob, refusing to mix the pain of her past with her future. But it was too late. Everything flooded out – all her past memories. He propped her up, placed the cake down between them, and listened.

It could have been ten seconds. It could have been an hour. She couldn't tell. But he listened until she stopped.

The traffic outside seemed to get louder.

Hiccup swallowed, "Hey."

Astrid looked up.

"Look at me. It's okay. It's okay. You're here in London now."

She nodded numbly, wet anger slowly seeping out of her body, letting herself sink into his foreign words, each reassurement a lifeline that she gripped onto.

"You don't have to bottle it up anymore. You have me. I know now."

She stared blankly at him, his face blurred by tears but glowing in the candlelight. How could he be saying that? Why would he be saying that? They were practically strangers. She had left him behind in Berk, along with the rest of them. Her friends. Her family.

"You don't have to be chained to your past anymore. Nobody ever is. That's the great thing about growing up. You, me - we can all make new memories, here in London."

She dipped her gaze. She could make out the cake now. The individual candles and the little flames, flickering in the dark as she drew in a breath. She looked up, eyes landing his for a split second before being caught by the lights. The city lights outside the window had all turned on, the digital neon red numbers on the cinema opposite telling her it was eight-thirty at night, illuminated faintly in the rain.

For the first time in her life, she felt like staying, cross-legged on the ground opposite a stranger who came in from the rain with a mop of brown hair and green eyes and a birthday cake sitting in front of her.

Astrid blew out the candles.


End file.
